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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589357">Ronon and the BCGs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/killersnowball/pseuds/killersnowball'>killersnowball</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:55:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/killersnowball/pseuds/killersnowball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When undergoing his physical to join Sheppard's team, Ronon discovers the world isn't supposed to be fuzzy far away. Beckett issues him glasses until his contacts arrive and Ronon vows never to wear them. However, the day comes when he loses his contacts in the midst of a firefight and must don the dreaded BCGs in the middle of battle, much to his chagrin. </p><p>A little humor fic for my buddy @momoamadness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ronon and the BCGs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ronon stared skeptically at Beckett as the man reached for a plastic bin stashed under the worktable. He reached out to push away the rolling table that held the complex piece of equipment that the man had used for his eye exam and rose from the stool he had directed him to take a seat on toward the end of his physical. He’d only been on Atlantis for three weeks, but hadn’t been surprised when he’d been summoned to the infirmary for the mandatory physical required for the contract he’d signed a few days earlier after Weir had approved him to join Sheppard’s team. </p><p>“So what are you saying, Doc? I’m blind?” Ronon arched a brow as he folded his arms over his chest and moved to lean against the stainless steel table where Beckett was now wiping a thick layer of dust off the lift of the large plastic bin he’d made room for on the tabletop.</p><p>Beckett glanced up at him with a sunny smile. “What? Not at all. You’re just a wee bit near-sighted. You’ve probably just learned to compensate for it over the years. Most people do. And these-” He paused, patting the top of the box with his free hand before he pulled the now-clean lid off. “Will fix you right up.” </p><p>Ronon’s gaze dropped to the open bin and he leaned forward a little to peer inside. Neatly stacked bins of small boxes all labeled with a series of digits that he could see clearly. “I see just fine. I can see those numbers.” He pointed to the contents of the bin. </p><p>“You see up close without any problem. But when things are further away than about ten meters it goes fuzzy. That’s what you said.” Beckett’s voice was no distracted as he referred to the sheet he’d jotted numbers down on during Ronon’s exam and then began to sift through the contents of the small bins. </p><p>“Yeah. So?” Ronon couldn’t help the defensiveness that crept into his tone. “It’s never stopped me before.” </p><p>Beckett came up with a small black rectangular box and leaned over, comparing the numbers as he double-checked something. “As I said, you compensated. But now you won’t have to do that anymore. This should work.” He straightened and extended the box to him. “Put those on and we’ll give the chart a try again just to confirm.” </p><p>Ronon hesitated and then wrapped his fingers around the case. Beckett was watching him expectantly. The hinges on the lid gave a squeak of protest as he opened it and stared at what was inside. His gut tightened in anger as the blood began to rush in his ears.  “Are you playing some kind of a trick on me?”</p><p>Beckett’s brow drew down as he shook his head. “Look, I know they aren’t ideal, Ronon. But we’re lucky to have a supply at all. We can’t just send out to the nearest optician to get a prescription filled.” </p><p>His lip curled in disgust at those words. Beckett, ever the peacemaker gestured toward the glasses that Ronon now held between his thumb and forefinger, like they were contaminated with something foul. “It’s just temporary. I’m going to transmit your prescription with tomorrow’s databurst to Earth and the next time the Daedalus arrives, they’ll have contact lenses. But for now, I don’t have any in stock and I’m low on supplies, so this is what we have. Just try them on and do the chart again. I promise you’ll notice the difference.” </p><p>Ronon’s heart sank. The doctor was entirely serious. Of course he was. Vision problems weren’t an issue on Sateda. He was a damn good shot, even if the world did get fuzzy a few feet away. He still knew how to hit what he was aiming for. He sighed and unfolded the glasses, remembering the little, round wire-rimmed pair Zelenka wore. Why were these so different? </p><p>They were awful. Heavy plastic, brown and a shape Ronon couldn’t begin to discern. Kind of a roundish square with a sharp angle at the inside, they immediately slid down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them up and headed for the seat he’d abandoned as Beckett turned on the projector once more. The fucking glasses slid down his nose again. Ronon pushed them up again. He then repeated this fucking process two more times before Beckett turned to face him, gesturing toward the chart that he’d projected on the wall. “Okay, ready the third line from the bottom for me, please.” </p><p>Ronon pushed the glasses up his nose again as they slid down and shifted his gaze toward the chart. “Whoa.” He murmured the words as his eyes scanned the letters, characters he was only beginning to learn. They were crystal clear. He recited the letters quickly, then glanced to Beckett who gave a nod. “Good. Try the bottom line.” </p><p>He lifted a hand to push the glasses up once more and scanned the letters there as well. Again, crystal fucking clear. When he fell silent, he noticed Beckett was smirking at him. “Better, right? Let’s get them tightened up a bit so you don’t have to worry about losing them.” </p><p>Ronon nodded as he took off the glasses and handed them back. There was no need to tell the doc that while it was nice to be able to make out what had previously just been little squiggles, there was zero chance he was going to wear the glasses in front of anyone. While Ronon didn’t consider himself a vain man, there was a line he wasn’t going to cross. It was hard to be intimidating to an enemy when your face was ringed in brown plastic that was somehow so inadvertently emasculating. When he left the infirmary ten minutes later, buoyed by the promise of contact lenses, now that he understood what they were after an explanation from the doctor, he had obediently slipped the glasses onto his face to placate the beaming Beckett. </p><p>He slipped them off and tucked them into his front pocket the second he exited the infirmary. Only a few weeks and he’d have contacts. No more fuzziness, and no needed to wear the fucking glasses. </p><p>****<br/>“Ow! Fuck!” Ronon bellowed as he jabbed himself in the eye yet again, dropping the tiny contact lens on the counter. He balled his hands into a fist and bashed it into the tabletop repeatedly in frustration. </p><p>Beside him Beckett flinched before reaching out to grip Ronon by the wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “Relax, big man. You’re going to dent my table. Just take a breath.” </p><p>“You fucking relax. I can’t do this! It’s too damn small.” Ronon snarled the words through clenched teeth as he reached for the tissue Beckett had given him, blotting at the tears that erupted after his fifth attempt at putting the lens in. “I’d rather be blind!” He snapped the words, jerking his other hand from the doctor’s grasp. “I thought you said this was easy.” </p><p>“And it is. There’s just a learning curve. Once you can get it in and take it out the first time, you’ll be a pro inside a week. I promise. It’s this or the glasses, Ronon.” Beckett reached out to lift the lens and squirt more of the saline solution on it, then offered it out to Ronon once more. “Try again.” </p><p>Ronon growled but took the contact from the other man and leaned closer toward the mirror placed on the counter and obediently pulled his eyelids open. He ground his teeth as he sneered at the lens and carefully balanced it on his forefinger. </p><p>“Wait.” Beckett said suddenly, then reached out and pushed the lens closer to his fingertip. “Like that. Go slow. Just remember not to blink until it’s in.” </p><p>It took everything in Ronon not to snap at the man that he remembered the instructions. Beckett was only trying to help and he liked Carson, truly. Sometimes though, the older man reminded him too much of his mother. Coddling and doting. </p><p>Ronon resisted the urge to blink as he brought the lens near his eyes for the sixth time. This time, the repositioning of the lens onto his fingertip made all the difference and he felt the moment he got it in. He snatched his hand away and closed his right eye for a moment, then blinked rapidly. “I think I got it.” </p><p>“Let me see.” Beckett said softly and Ronon obediently turned his head. Beckett gazed at him and then nodded with a smile. “You got it. Now take it out.” </p><p>Taking the damn thing out proved far simpler than getting it in and a few seconds later, he was holding the lens between his fingers, glancing at Beckett in triumph. It was his first genuine smile since he’d arrived on Atlantis, he realized. A small victory that somehow held a world of meaning and promise that he didn’t quite understand. Beckett was grinning right back at him. “Great. You can put them both in and off you go. I’ll go grab a box and a full bottle of solution for you.” </p><p>Ronon reached for the bottle of saline solution Beckett had coached him on how to use before he’d started the cycle of jabbing himself in the eye and cursing. He carefully applied it and then drew in a breath and leaned toward the mirror again. Getting the lens in was far easier this time. By the time Beckett returned, Ronon was staring at the wall opposite. The feeling he’d had when he’d first read those few lines after he’d been given the glasses returned. He could see every single letter of the workplace safety poster mounted on the wall clearly from where he sat more than 30 feet away. Remarkable. </p><p>“Right, so take them out every night, put them in the case. Cover them with the solution so they don’t try out. Remember to change them out for a fresh pair every seven days. You have enough for six months here. If you have any kind of reaction, just come and see me. I think you’re all set.” Beckett grinned once more. “Keep the glasses as backup, just in case.” </p><p>He rose from the stool and stared at Beckett. A smirk rose to Ronon’s lips as he reached for the little paper bag the doctor had slipped the items into. “Got it. Thanks, Doc.” </p><p>He turned for the door, his hand reaching down to pat the pocket he’d been dutifully carrying the glasses in for the past month. He’d gotten used to the weight of them there, even pulled them out a few times when he was alone to test them out. He’d never realized just how weird it was not to see clearly at a distance. He was just used to the fuzziness around everything. He’d thought it normal until Beckett had started clucking at him in disapproval. Ronon dropped the bag in his quarters, grabbed his gun, and headed straight for the shooting range. Time to test these babies out. </p><p>****</p><p>Ronon pressed himself closer to the wall as he heard the heavy thudding of boots and the guttural sound of voices coming closer. He glanced to where McKay stood hunched over a console nearby, attempting to bypass the safety controls that would trigger the… something technical that would lead to blowing the place up from the inside out. </p><p>“McKay, how much longer is this going to take?” He hissed in a low voice toward his teammate. </p><p>The other man lifted his head as he snapped the words. “It’ll be done when I’m done.” </p><p>He drew in a breath and twisted his head to stare at McKay in disbelief. McKay took that as the silent reproach that it was meant to be and then huffed, an indignant sound. “You know what? I’m getting really tired of you people thinking that my job is easy. Just because I know how to do it doesn’t mean that I can always do it instantly.” </p><p>Ronon hurled the words at him. “Just do it!” </p><p>“Okay, you know what? If you want to try to hack into a Wraith mainframe, and then isolate the weapons system, rewrite the code to cause a catastrophic overload-” McKay’s voice rose with each word, his irritation clear as he stopped working altogether. </p><p>The footsteps came closer and Ronon bared his teeth as he jerked his head toward the sound. “Just shut up and get back to work.” </p><p>The sound of P90 fire in the distance punctuated Ronon’s words and McKay paled. “Right. On it.” He muttered as he returned his attention to the table that was hooked into the workstation with some kind of weird wiring Ronon couldn’t begin to understand. </p><p>Sheppard’s voice was tight as the radio perched on Ronon’s ear crackled to life. “We got the C4 planted, but we’ve been spotted. We’re headed back to you. Rodney, how’s it coming.” </p><p>Ronon reached up and tapped his own radio to respond, to keep McKay from becoming distracted and going off on another of his rants. “He’s nearly done.” </p><p>McKay nodded as if confirming Ronon’s words. Ronon heard the shot just before McKay’s yelp of surprise. A white pulse of energy hit the wall beside his head, sparking before it dissipated into nothingness. Ronon spun, firing off a shot that hit the Wraith who hovered in the doorway just as the second fired toward him, instead of McKay. “Get down!” He snapped at McKay who needed no further encouragement to crouch behind the workstation tablet cradled in the crook of his elbow as his fingers flew over the screen. </p><p>The second Wraith ducked into the hallway, as Ronon darted behind the opposite side. From where he stood, he could see straight down the hall, three more Wraith drones hurrying their way. Their lumbering stride was top speed would give him maybe thirty seconds before they closed the distance. Ronon waited for the drone he’d missed to carefully poke his head around the door, his blaster raised and at the ready. The instant the creature’s head appeared, Ronon fired, and he dropped to the floor. </p><p>“Ronon, what’s going on?” Teyla’s voice now, filled with concern. </p><p>Ronon took aim as he answered. “We got Wraith coming from both hallways. I’m on the east side of the room with three coming, at least two more from the west entrance.” </p><p>He fired again, hitting the first of the Wraith drones that came into range. Behind him, he heard McKay’s voice, nearly frantic with fear. “Crap!” The sharp report of the 9 mil that McKay carried firing, three shots in rapid succession, then a thud as the scientist hit at least one of them. </p><p>P90 fire once again, coming closer this time, from the west side of the room and the corridor that ran parallel to the one Ronon now entered fully. He rained shots down on the drones, taking out both. It was clear for the moment, but more would be coming. “Ronon!” McKay shouted as he heard the final shots of the handgun followed by a series of clicks that signaled an empty clip. </p><p>Ronon turned, sprinting back down the hallway and toward the engine room where McKay had been working. He skidded to a halt just in time to fire at the two Wraith who were hovering near the door. He crouched down and headed around the console where McKay was clumsily trying to put a fresh clip into his weapon. As he rounded the console, mouth open to give McKay instructions to stay hidden, a blinding pain blossomed in his skull as McKay’s fist slammed into the bridge of his nose. </p><p>Caught off guard, Ronon dropped to the ground, his eyes slamming closed as his vision blurred and tears sprang to his eyes in reflex to the blow. “Ow! Shit. McKay! What the fuck?” </p><p>“Ronon? Oh God. I thought you were a Wraith sneaking up behind me!” McKay’s voice held a note of horror as he hovered over Ronon. “I’m so sorry! I’m SO sorry!” </p><p>The sound of weapons fire, Sheppard and Teyla were drawing closer. Ronon opened his eyes, wiping away the tears as he pushed himself to his knees and glared at the now-fuzzy McKay. At least it was a good hit. Ronon grunted and rose to his feet, staring at his teammate, torn between slugging him back and forgiving him. The guilt on McKay’s face was priceless though, and so was the fear. Ronon opened his mouth to speak just as his radio crackled to life once more, Sheppard’s voice tight. “We’re pinned down. Could sure use a little help here.” </p><p>Ronon checked the charge on his gun and stepped toward McKay, shoving his forefinger into the other man’s chest. “Are you done here?” </p><p>McKay nodded silently as he reached to place the tablet back in its pouch and then haphazardly smacked it into place on the velcro on the back of his vest. </p><p>“Good. Stay behind me and stay quiet.” Ronon instructed as he headed for the door, reaching up to tap his radio. “Sheppard, Teyla. McKay’s finished. We’re heading toward you now.” </p><p>Ronon knew something was wrong the second he stepped into the hallway. Gone was the crystal clear forms of the Wraith facility’s support beams. Instead, it was a fuzzy outline that he’d not seen in more than a year, not since he’d started faithfully wearing Beckett’s contact lenses every waking moment. Ronon cursed beneath his breath as he patted his pocket and reached for the glasses he kept there. His damn contacts must have fallen out. It had happened before a few times, mostly during sparring, but never in combat. He had just tucked his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing them then he heard stunner fire. He hissed toward McKay, jerking his hand free as he tried to focus on the source of the blast. There it was, at the juncture of two hallways, nearly fifty meters away. Two blurry forms. A white shape coming closer and Ronon knew they were under fire again. He slammed himself against the wall, narrowly missing being hit and reached for his pocket once more. </p><p>McKay smacked him in the shoulder just as his fingers brushed against the glasses again, dislodging his hand. “What the hell are you doing? Shoot back!” He whisper-yelled at Ronon. “This is not the time to grope in your pockets for a snack or whatever it is that you’re doing!” </p><p>Ronon resisted the urge to retort and instead obliged by firing blindly down the hallway. He’d become too reliant on the clarity provided by his contacts and now he was paying the price. The shapes were closer, larger, and no less fuzzy when another blast of energy hit the wall. Ronon hissed the words at McKay in a low voice. “I have to get closer. Stay here. Wait for my signal.” </p><p>There was no choice. He couldn’t see clearly enough to get a clear shot from this distance. He crouched as low as he could, heading straight down the hall, firing wildly in the general direction of the Wraith. He heard a thud as one went down, reaching into his pocket as he darted into an alcove. Finally, thank fuck, he was able to pull the ugly ass glasses from his pocket and open them, shoving them onto his face. </p><p>When he peeked out, looking back toward McKay, the other man was clear, and when he turned his gaze in the other direction, so was the remaining Wraith, as well as the two more who were lumbering at their top speed to join their comrade. </p><p>Ronon grinned and stepped out, striding toward them as he took aim. One by one, the three Wraith dropped, though one did manage to wing him in the arm. “McKay, it’s clear. Let’s go.” </p><p>He glanced back as McKay appeared from his hiding place and hustled down the corridor toward him. The other man stopped cold when he was about ten feet away and scrunched up his nose. “What the… are those… are you wearing glasses?” </p><p>Ronon’s lips peeled back in a sneer as he ignored McKay’s question and focused on making his way toward the p90 fire. They made it almost 50 meters before he fired off a series of shots at the pair of Wraith guards who had the misfortune of stepping into his path. </p><p>McKay’s voice was low and insistent, as if Ronon in glasses was some kind of a revelation. “Since when do you wear glasses?” </p><p>He rolled his eyes, movement in the distance catching his attention. He reached out to grab McKay by the shoulder, slamming him into the wall as he surged forward. Ten seconds later, three more dead Wraith were on the ground and McKay had wandered out of his hiding spot, still refusing to let it go. “We've been on the same team for a year. How am I just now finding out you wear glasses? And why are they so ugly?” </p><p>There was another burst of p90 fire and Teyla’s voice in his ear over his radio. “Ronon? Colonel Sheppard is out of ammo.” </p><p>“We’re almost there.” Ronon reached out and gripped McKay by the vest he wore and forewent stealth, stalking down the hallway. </p><p>McKay didn’t even seem to notice that he was being manhandled, his eyes still on Ronon’s face as he was hustled along. “They had to give you the BCGs? Why would they do that to you? Crap. I knew Beckett had a mean streak in him. I just knew it.” </p><p>Ronon arched a brow as he rounded the corner, lifting his gun at the same moment McKay did, both firing off a shot at the single Wraith they’d surprised. The Wraith dropped and now Ronon, for what it was worth, was engaged in the conversation. “BCGs? What are BCGs?” </p><p>A cluster of Wraith came into sight at the end of the hallway and Ronon released McKay, checking the charge on his gun. At the same time, Rodney changed out the clip in his pistol as he spoke. “You know. Bir- Crap!” McKay hissed as Ronon lifted his weapon and fired over his shoulder, more invested in the conversation than the fight as he waited for McKay to continue. </p><p>McKay glanced behind himself. “Left or right?” </p><p>“Left.” Ronon responded instantly and then turned to go, relying on McKay to follow under his own steam. “So BCGs?” </p><p>“Birth Con-.” Rodney began to respond, then eeped as a white flash of stunner fire hit the wall beside his head. Ronon shoved McKay toward the wall for what seemed like the thirtieth time that day and fired back toward the Wraith. Through the thick haze of bullets that Teyla peppered toward the cluster of half a dozen Wraith that occupied the juncture of the corridors. </p><p>McKay’s unfinished statement rang through Ronon’s mind as he calmly approached the first Wraith in the cluster that was so focused on firing on Teyla and Sheppared that they hadn’t noticed his approach. Bir… what? He fired into the back of the first Wraith’s head and then the next. Execution style. He was more focused on sorting out what the hell McKay hadn’t been able to finish saying that when Teyla appeared beside him, the hail of gunfire stopping, engaging in hand-to-hand with the drones, that he was able to drag himself out of the confusing wordgame McKay had started and focus on the fight. </p><p>It was almost too easy. Broken neck, down. Plunge his knife into the next one, twist, pull out. Dead Wraith. His boot connected with the head of a third, and he heard bone snapping as he spun, ducked a blow and slammed his knife into it’s gut. Another dead Wraith. As the last one stumbled back from one of Teyla’s punches, Ronon simply lifted his knife and stepped aside, drawing the blade over its neck and slitting its throat before letting it fall to the floor like garbage, ignored. </p><p>“You two okay?” He focused on Teyla and Sheppard as the other man emerged</p><p>Sheppard winced as he touched the back of his head and drew away a hand smeared with blood. “One of them threw me into the wall.” His eyes darted to Ronon in cursory glance at him for damage. “You two get done?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Ronon pushed his glasses up his nose, then noticed the world had gone a little fuzzy. He pulled them off and used the tail of his shirt to try to clean the worst of the Wraith blood off them. </p><p>McKay appeared behind him, glancing at the pile of bodies. “Can we go now?” </p><p>Sheppard tracked McKay’s gaze and nodded, smirking. “Yeah. I think we’re done here.” </p><p>Ronon settled his glasses back into place and drew his gun once more, preparing for any encounters they might have, slim as the were. The meeting point was close to the exit for a reason. As McKay took position between him and Teyla, Sheppard cocked his head to the side, frowning at Ronon. “There’s something different about you. Did you do something with your hair?” </p><p>He lifted a brow and rolled his eyes as he took up the rear behind McKay, protecting the scientist as they headed for the egress point. Ten minutes later they were in the jumper and heading up toward orbit as the facility exploded behind him. They were all silent, Ronon savoring the moment when another Wraith stronghold went up in literal flames. Several long minutes passed until they were in orbit over the planet and Sheppard began to run the obligatory scans to make sure no lifesigns remained. Ronon leaned on the arm of his seat, leaning across to Teyla as he murmured the words. “Do you know what BCGs are?” </p><p>McKay, who’d been talking quietly with Sheppard snapped his fingers and turned in his own seat before Teyla could respond. “I knew I’d forgotten something. Birth Control Glasses. That’s what BCG stands for. Why did Beckett give you those godawful things.” </p><p>Ronon’s brow drew down in a frown, confusion mingling with the beginnings of realizing he was the butt of some joke he didn’t quite understand. </p><p>“Uh. Birth Control Glasses?” Teyla saved Ronon from having to grope for words as she leaned forward toward McKay. “I don’t understand.” </p><p>Sheppard spun in his own seat, abandoning his scans as he stared at Ronon. “Oh my God. You’re wearing glasses. Why? And why the hell are they BCGs?” </p><p>The ball of rage that was never far away began to tighten in the pit of Ronon’s stomach. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He growled in warning as he focused his gaze on Sheppard. </p><p>“The military issues BCGs in boot camp. They’re so ugly that no woman will sleep with you. Hence the name. Birth Control Glasses. There is no way you’re getting laid with those things on your face, Chewie. I mean, I’m straight but just looking at them makes my dick shrink in sympat-” </p><p>“Just… fly the jumper.” Ronon snarled as he reached up to snatch the glasses off his face, folding them up and resolutely shoving them in his pocket. </p><p>Beside him, Teyla sighed. He cut his gaze to her and he dared to speak, low and defensive. “They aren’t that bad.” </p><p>She reached out and squeezed his arm in that soothing way of hers. “Ronon. There are no words.” </p><p>****</p>
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